13 Weeks: On Despair

So I went and looked back at my previous columns. Around week five in the first season was when I started to feel it was a slog -- I'd started the program, I'd gotten some exciting gains, and then things evened out. I had the big drop in my A1c still to come, I still had weight to lose, and of course my measurements weren't changing -- that didn't really happen until this second 13 week season.

Now, I think back to previous diets and exercise programs, and I realize there have been moments like this in all of them: moments when life was hard and so was the diet (I'd sure love a quart of ice cream right now) and when I just basically lost hope that I was making any progress. I despaired.

I certainly feel like that this week, but I didn't buy ice cream anyway; I didn't even buy a bag of M&Ms. Why? I guess there are a couple of reasons.

First of all, I made this a 13 week thing for a reason: I can see the end of my 13 weeks in the foreseeable future. I can stand it, and frankly the diet is still pretty tolerable -- I've had fajitas (no tortillas) twice this week.

Second, I can look back and see how far I've actually come -- I'm clearly skinnier, I feel better, and lots of measures, from waistline to cholesterol, say I'm healthier and better off than I've been in years.

Third, of course, is your people -- everyone who has said I was inspiring you, or that you were following me with interest, or said encouraging words through this whole thing -- including the preparatory weeks, now, it's getting close to half a year.

So, if you're trying this or something similar, I'll just say (and say to myself) not to give up hope, not to despair.